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St. Patrick’s Day
An Ode to the Irish American Mother
She could’ve run her 1970s world
Do you hanker for beans, hot dogs and canned brown bread on a Saturday night? Do you start running if you hear, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” muttered through gritted teeth? Did you ever get tiny white pleather bag with a rosary and a pocket bible as a gift? If you answer yes to any of these questions, you likely grew up in a very specific type of family, headed by a very specific kind of mother: the Irish-American Mother (I-AM).
A creation of the Irish diaspora, the I-AM, was typically the grandchild of immigrants, but raised by parents who were distinctly Irish also, although they likely never stepped foot on the Emerald Isle themselves. The traditions of their parents were so ingrained they were passed like eye color and blood type right to their children. When that next generation became parents, their American upbringing had mingled with the prior generations’ Irish one.
This duality was a super power. I-AMs had that Irish wit, combined with American overconfidence. They retained their inborn fear of God, which was truly the only fear they had, but believed they could harness it to their advantage. Their veneration was not a weakness, but a tool. They believed so fervently, their children were convinced that God worked with, if not for, their…
